The gang awoke in a haze, groggy and sore, sprawled out across the cold, damp floor of a cavern far larger than anything they'd seen before. The air was thick with moisture, the walls slick with condensation and strung with heavy webs that glistened like threads of moonlight. A low chittering echoed in the distance—soft at first, then louder, closer, always present.

RJ sat up first, rubbing the back of his head with a grimace. "Okay... not the worst place we've woken up in."

"That's a bold statement," Molly muttered, surveying the space with narrowed eyes.

Ollie, unbothered, grinned as she stood and admired the strands of silk. "Wow, would you look at all this silk! You think they sell this stuff in stores? Maybe we could—"

"I am going to die," Callie cut in, eyes wide as saucers as she latched onto Molly's arm.

"Oh, come on, Callie," Serena said, stretching her arms with a yawn. "It's not that bad."

"We are in a spider cave. A spider cave!" Callie's voice pitched high with panic. "Do you understand what that means?! We are going to die in a web cocoon and get liquefied from the inside out!"

"Okay," RJ said, wincing, "graphic."

Serena flashed a teasing grin. "Hey, if we do get cocooned, at least you'll be all snug and cozy. Like a big Callie burrito."

"THAT DOESN'T HELP!" Callie shrieked, her voice echoing through the cavern.

Molly tried to muffle her laugh, giving Callie a reassuring pat on the back. "It's okay, Callie. If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure the spiders will go for RJ first."

"Why me?!" RJ looked scandalized.

"You are the biggest," Ollie chimed cheerfully.

RJ froze. "That's—" He blinked. "Wait. Was that a fat joke?"

Serena shrugged. "I mean... you are a prime meal."

"Okay, first of all—"

But RJ didn't get to finish. A loud, skin-crawling skitter echoed through the cavern. All banter stopped.

Then Callie made a sound unlike anything human—somewhere between a scream, a sob, and a dying mouse squeak.

"We're gonna die!" she wailed, gripping Molly tighter.

Ollie, meanwhile, was beaming. "Oh man. This is the best day ever."

Without waiting, the group bolted. The cave echoed with the sound of their pounding footsteps and the relentless scraping of legs on stone. Bioluminescent fungi along the walls pulsed a soft, eerie glow, casting long, warped shadows as the webbed tunnels stretched endlessly ahead.

"Why do we always end up running for our lives?!" Serena shouted between breaths. "Just once—I wanna walk away from something!"

"Less complaining, more running!" RJ growled, muscles burning.

"Where even is the exit?!" Molly called.

Then—disaster.

Ollie tripped over a thick strand of web stretched across the floor and yelped as she went down, arms flailing. The sticky silk clung to her limbs, trapping her.

"Guys—GUYS!" she cried out, panic rising in her voice.

Callie spun around. Her heart stopped when she saw her sister tangled in the webbing, struggling. The skittering grew louder—closer. Shadows moved in the corners of her vision.

She didn't think. She didn't breathe. She snapped.

"OLLIE, YOU IDIOT!"

The cave fell into stunned silence.

Ollie looked up, her face crumpling. "...What?"

Callie's voice rose with every word, cracking under the pressure. "Do you ever think before you do anything?! Do you ever stop and consider that maybe—just maybe—this isn't some big, fun adventure for once?! That we could actually—" her voice caught, trembling "—actually die here?!"

"I—I didn't mean to trip, Callie," Ollie said, her voice small. "I—"

"You never mean to!" Callie shouted. "But you always do something! And I always have to be the one to clean up after you, to watch out for you, to—" she gestured wildly, eyes brimming—"to save you! Every time!"

Ollie stood frozen, tears pooling in her eyes. Her mouth opened once, then closed.

"I... I get it," she whispered.

Then, without another word, she turned and ran—straight into the webbed maze, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows.

Callie stepped forward instinctively. "Ollie—Ollie, wait—!"

But before she could chase after her, Molly shoved past with fury in her eyes.

"No. You don't get to call her back after that."

Serena's voice came cold and sharp. "Yeah. What the hell was that, Callie?"

RJ shook his head. "She looks up to you. And you just—" He sighed, voice heavy with disappointment. "You tore her down."

Callie stood rooted in place. Her hands shook. Her chest heaved. The silence pressed in, louder than any skittering. The weight of her words settled in her gut like stone.

And for the first time, the fear in her chest wasn't about spiders.

It was about losing her sister.

Ollie stumbled deeper into the twisting cavern, her breath hitching as she wiped furiously at her eyes. The sting of Callie's words echoed louder than the skittering legs in the distance, reverberating through her chest like cruel little daggers. Each step felt heavier than the last. Her body trembled, not from cold, but from heartbreak.

"I—I'm not useless," she whispered to herself, voice raw and trembling. "I'm not..."

She backed against a wall of cold stone and slid down to sit, curling in on herself, arms tightly wrapped around her chest. Her sobs came quietly now, hiccuping in the dark, swallowed by the cave's oppressive silence. The shadows around her seemed to close in, thick and watchful.

Then—a rustle.

Ollie's breath caught. She froze, hand gripping her sleeve, eyes darting toward the sound. Something moved from the depths—a shimmer of red and silver in the gloom, followed by the careful tap-tap-tap of long legs. A massive spider emerged from the shadows, each of its limbs moving with elegant precision. Its many eyes gleamed, catching the bioluminescent light.

"You're... not gonna eat me, are you?" Ollie asked, barely audible, voice hoarse and shaky.

The spider paused. Then, tilting its body ever so slightly, it lowered itself slowly... and gently wrapped its legs around her.

Ollie froze. The fuzzy limbs embraced her—not tightly, but warmly. The spider's body radiated a gentle heat, like a weighted blanket on a cold night. Against all instinct, she let herself breathe again, hiccuping softly as she nestled into the unexpected hug.

"...You're kinda nice," she murmured.

The spider responded with a soft chitter, one leg stroking her back in a slow, comforting rhythm. The gesture was tender. Maternal, even.

Her breathing slowed. For the first time since Callie's outburst, the ache in her chest dulled. But just as her body began to relax, something silky and cool brushed the back of her neck.

"H-Hey, what are you—" she tried to protest.

Drowsiness hit her like a crashing wave.

Her vision blurred, limbs turning to lead. A fog rolled into her mind, thick and sleepy, and the spider hummed low and soft like a lullaby. Webbing wrapped around her gently, and from the edges of her fading sight, more shapes approached—spiders. Dozens. Hundreds. Watching her.

And then—darkness.

She awoke with a gasp.

Ollie's eyes flew open. Her body twisted, instinct flaring into panic—but she couldn't move. Silken strands bound her limbs, tight and firm. She was suspended, held gently but firmly in a cocoon of silk.

"No, no, no—please, let me go!" she cried. "Someone—Callie! Serena! RJ!"

Her voice echoed, hopelessly. No answer came.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes again. Her chest heaved. She didn't want to cry—not again. Not when she was supposed to be the one who didn't break.

But this was too much.

"I-I don't wanna die..." she sobbed. "I wanna go home... I want my dad..."

Her voice cracked.

And that was it.

The dam broke. Sobs wracked her body, her tears falling freely. She curled as much as the webbing allowed, wishing she could vanish.

Then—click click click.

Eight soft footsteps echoed above.

Descending from the ceiling in a fluid motion came a figure of beauty and horror—a tall woman with porcelain skin and crimson eyes, long black hair cascading down her shoulders. But from the waist down, her body was that of a spider: sleek, black, and monstrous. Her eight legs landed silently around Ollie's cocoon.

The Spider Queen.

She glided forward and knelt. Her claws delicately brushed through Ollie's hair.

"Oh, little one..." she cooed, voice soft and eerily gentle. "Why do you cry?"

Ollie flinched but didn't pull away. Her tears were still flowing, and her body trembled too hard to lie. She could only sniffle as the Spider's touch moved to her cheek, lifting her chin.

"Are you afraid of me?" the Spider asked, her eyes narrowed with curiosity.

Ollie hiccuped, nodding. Her gaze lingered on the sharp fangs glinting at the woman's lips.

The Spider studied her for a moment. Then—without warning—she drew Ollie close, cradling her against her silken robes.

Warmth.

A steady heartbeat.

A hand stroking her hair with slow, practiced grace.

It felt like... home.

"I—I want my dad..." Ollie whimpered, voice cracking like glass.

The Spider Queen stilled. Then, more gently than before, she pressed Ollie's face to her shoulder.

"Shhh... You have lost your way, haven't you?"

Ollie bit her lip, unable to stop the next sob. She clung to the Spider's robes as tightly as she could.

"I... I don't wanna be alone... I just want my mama..."

There was a pause. A deep, quiet stillness.

Then the Spider let out a soft, breathy chuckle, her voice a silk thread of amusement.

"Mama, is it? My, my... what a precious little thing you are."

She kissed Ollie's forehead, her fangs grazing the skin like a warning—but there was no venom in the touch. Ollie didn't resist. She simply cried herself out in the Spider's arms, until her body went limp with sleep.

When Ollie next stirred, it was to the glow of mushrooms above. She blinked slowly, her limbs no longer bound, her body curled in a nest of silk and warmth.

She was nestled in the Spider Queen's lap, arms still loosely around her waist. One of the Queen's long legs draped protectively over her like a blanket.

Ollie sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

"I... I cried a lot, huh?"

"Mmm. You did," the Spider replied, stroking her hair. "It was quite the flood."

Ollie flushed, hugging her knees.

"...Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?"

"For... letting me cry. For not laughing. For holding me."

The Spider paused, then resumed stroking her hair, slower this time.

"You are quite an unusual human," she said.

Ollie gave a small, crooked smile. "Maybe."

A long, thoughtful hum.

"Rest, little one," the Spider whispered. "You are safe here."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Ollie believed her.

GRRRRRRRRRR...

Ollie's stomach growled so loudly it startled them both.

The Spider tilted her head, amused. "Was that you?"

"...Maybe."

Another monstrous growl.

"Okay, yes. That was me."

The Spider chuckled, reaching into a silk pouch and pulling out a handful of fat, wriggling insects.

"A delicacy."

Ollie blinked. "Oh."

"What's wrong, little one?" the Spider teased. "You seem hesitant."

"Nah, nah, I'm fine, just—uh—didn't expect it to be so... fresh."

The Spider dangled a fat grub in front of her face.

Ollie stared at it. It wriggled.

Then—pop. She ate it.

Silence.

"...Huh. Kinda nutty."

The Spider stared. Openly.

Ollie grabbed another. "Oooh, this one's tangy."

"...You actually ate it."

Ollie grinned. "Yeah? You thought I wouldn't?"

"Most humans recoil."

"Most humans don't deal with killer archives and death mazes every week."

The Spider stared. Then slowly... smiled.

She dangled another bug. "And this one?"

Chomp.

"Crunchy. Like a potato chip."

Another pause.

Then, quietly—"Perhaps I will keep you."

And Ollie? Ollie smiled, crumbs of grub still on her lip.

"Guess I'm growing on you."

The air in the cave was thick and heavy, as though it, too, carried the weight of everything that had gone wrong.

Callie stood just outside the mouth of the spider's lair, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to hold her guilt in place. Her fingers dug into her sleeves, her mind trapped in a swirling storm of regret. The skittering of unseen spiders echoed faintly in the shadows, but she barely registered it. The only sound that truly lingered was the echo of Ollie's sobs—soft, broken things that kept playing in her memory like a cruel lullaby.

What did I do? she thought, her jaw clenched as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. What was I thinking?

She began pacing in short, frantic strides, every movement jerky with tension. She had snapped at Ollie. Yelled at her. Her little sister—sweet, trusting Ollie—who had always looked up to her like she could do no wrong. And now, Ollie was in there, alone with the Spider Queen, and Callie had done nothing but push her away.

"I should've been better," she whispered hoarsely, voice cracking as it slipped past trembling lips. "I should've been there for her."

The guilt pressed down harder, coiling tight around her chest like a vice. Her breaths came shallow, shaky. She pressed a hand to her heart, trying to steady herself, but there was no anchoring to be found. Just the sharp edges of shame and fear.

This wasn't the first time she'd let her emotions get the better of her. Whenever things got too intense—when the pressure built too high—she lashed out. And Ollie, always so patient, always so kind, bore the brunt of it.

"Why can't I just be the big sister she deserves?" she murmured.

Her legs gave out beneath her, and she slid down the cave wall, curling into herself. The cold stone at her back did nothing to numb the heat of her tears as they streamed down her cheeks. She buried her face in her knees, her shoulders quaking with each sob that escaped.

"I don't deserve her forgiveness," she said between gasps. "She'll never look at me the same way again..."

The silence stretched. Only the faint sound of spiders scuttling deeper in the dark reminded her that the world hadn't stopped—though in that moment, it felt like it had.

Callie didn't know how long she sat there, consumed by sorrow. But slowly, something stirred beneath the grief. A glimmer of resolve.

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve, forcing herself to breathe deeper. Then, with no small effort, she pushed herself upright. Her legs trembled, and her heart still felt like it was cracked in half, but she stood.

"I'll make it right," she whispered, voice wavering but clear. "I'll find a way to make things better."

She didn't know how. She didn't even know if Ollie would listen. But she had to try. Because loving someone didn't mean never making mistakes—it meant facing them. It meant choosing, again and again, to be better.

And Callie would. For Ollie.

The cave was quiet—eerily so. The usual hum of skittering legs had softened to a gentle rustle, like distant wind through dry grass. Ollie sat cross-legged on a patch of soft silk, nestled in the heart of the webbed chamber. Threads stretched in delicate spirals above her, glowing faintly beneath the bioluminescent shimmer of the cave walls. The air smelled faintly of earth and something strangely sweet, like spun sugar.

She watched as the Spider Queen—her self-appointed mama—moved gracefully through her kingdom of silk and shadow. With long, precise limbs, the spider-woman spun another gleaming thread between her fingers, humming a tune Ollie didn't recognize. It wasn't exactly a lullaby, but it had the same strange, soothing cadence. Despite the surreal setting, Ollie felt calm. Safe, even.

Spider's many eyes glanced toward her, their glint unreadable but somehow... soft.

"You've been awfully quiet, little one," she said, her voice a silken whisper echoing off the cavern walls.

Ollie shifted slightly, pulling her knees to her chest. "Just thinking," she murmured.

"About your sister?" Spider guessed.

Ollie hesitated, then shook her head. "My dad."

The silk between Spider's fingers paused mid-weave. She tilted her head, letting the silence linger a beat longer before she spoke again. "Tell me about him."

Ollie looked down at the web beneath her, fingers tracing the intricate patterns spun into the floor.

"He's smart," she said slowly, quietly. "And kind of a dork. He tells the worst jokes—like, the worst—but they always make me laugh anyway. When I was little, he'd carry me on his shoulders like I was a superhero or something. And even now... even when he's tired or stressed, he still smiles at me like I'm the most important thing in the world."

Her voice wavered. She blinked quickly, trying not to cry.

"He works a lot. Too much. I think he's trying to give me and Callie the best life he can, but..." Her voice cracked. "I barely see him anymore. And now I'm stuck here, in this weird spider dimension or whatever, and I don't even know if I'll ever get back."

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, but not unkind. Spider finished weaving her thread with a deft flick of her fingers, then approached quietly. In her hands, she carried something—folded, shimmering, soft.

She draped it gently over Ollie's shoulders. Ollie looked down in surprise. A sweater. Woven entirely from silk, so light it was barely there, but warm—warm in a way that settled deep into her chest. The pattern was intricate, like spiderweb lace spun from moonlight.

"You looked cold," Spider said, almost casually.

Ollie's throat tightened as she ran her fingers over the garment. It was beautiful. More than that—it felt like being hugged.

"You... made this for me?" she whispered.

Spider gave a small smile, patting Ollie's head with one hand while another spun a lazy strand of silk nearby. "It's not every day I make clothes for someone who actually appreciates it. Normally, they're too busy screaming."

Ollie laughed through her tears. "Thank you, Mama Spider."

The title slipped out without thinking, but Spider didn't correct her. She only hummed contentedly and went back to her weaving.

"I bet my dad would love this," Ollie added after a moment. "He'd probably try to steal it. Wear it even though it's clearly not his size."

Spider chuckled, her fangs clicking together. "A man with taste. I approve."

Ollie smiled—small, but real. She hugged the sweater tighter around her. For the first time since getting separated from the others, she didn't feel completely alone.

It wasn't home. Not really. But in this strange, twisted world, surrounded by silk and shadow and stories, it was something close.

And for now... that was enough.

The cave was cold and damp, the sound of dripping water echoing off walls veined with spider silk. Serena and Molly moved confidently through the dark, unbothered by the soft rustling of legs skittering overhead. Where others might have screamed, the two girls simply walked on—Molly with quiet curiosity, Serena with something closer to delight.

"This place reminds me of Caleb," Serena said, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Molly glanced sideways, her brow raised. "Your shitty ex? What, did he live in a hole in the ground?"

Serena gasped, feigning scandal. "Molly! How dare you insult holes in the ground like that?"

Molly snorted, but Serena's expression turned sly as she leaned in, lowering her voice like she was about to reveal a state secret.

"No, I was just thinking about how terrified he was of spiders. Like, full-on screaming, bed-jumping, fetal-position kind of terrified."

Now she had Molly's full attention.

"Oh, do tell."

Serena chuckled. "Okay, middle school. Science class. Mr. Thompson brings out this massive tarantula. Big fuzzy thing. Caleb, being the genius he was, didn't realize it was real."

Molly's grin spread. "This is gonna be good."

"So Mr. Thompson holds it up and starts talking about how docile they are, asking for volunteers to hold it," Serena said, gesturing animatedly. "And there's Caleb, trying to act all tough, sitting next to me. So I give him a little nudge and say, 'You should go first, babe.'"

"You set him up." Molly was already laughing.

"I encouraged personal growth," Serena said innocently. "So he puffs out his chest, saunters up there, all macho. Mr. Thompson gently places the tarantula in his hands..."

Serena paused for effect.

"And the second those little legs touch his skin—AAAAHHHH!" She flailed her arms and let out a perfect imitation of a terrified middle schooler.

Molly doubled over, laughing. "No way."

"He throws it. Like, launches the poor thing across the room. It lands on Mr. Thompson's head, Molly. His head."

Molly was wheezing now, tears pricking her eyes. "Please tell me he passed out."

"Close! He screamed, tripped over a desk, hit the floor, then army-crawled out of the room. Chaos. Utter chaos."

Molly wiped her eyes, still giggling. "And that's the guy you dated?"

Serena shrugged with a smirk. "I was young and stupid. If I could go back, I'd dump a bucket of spiders on him. Just let them crawl. Watch him flail."

"Serena," Molly said, laughing, "that's not a breakup. That's psychological warfare."

Serena just winked. "And?"

They walked deeper into the cave, their laughter echoing between the stone walls. For some, the darkness and webs would be a nightmare—but for these two? It was almost cozy. They felt right at home.

Farther back in the cave, in the hush between echoing drips, Callie stood rigid beside RJ. The tension between them was a live wire, stretched tight.

RJ's voice broke the silence, sharp and angry. "Callie, what the hell was that? You just snapped on Ollie. She's your sister!"

"I know she's my sister!" Callie fired back, arms crossed tight across her chest. "Do you think I don't know that?!"

"Then why the hell did you yell at her like that? She ran off crying, Callie!"

Callie's jaw tightened. Her fists shook at her sides. For a moment, it looked like she was going to scream again. Instead, her voice cracked.

"Because I—I lost it, okay? I just... lost it."

RJ hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden shift. Callie turned away, scrubbing a hand through her tangled hair.

"I've spent my whole damn life making sure she's okay," she said, quieter now. "I was basically her other parent. I had to be. Mom was barely there, and Dad—" She stopped, voice thickening. "I had to keep her safe. Keep her happy. Make sure she didn't feel alone."

She swallowed hard, blinking fast. Her hands balled into fists.

"And now we're stuck in this nightmare place, and I'm supposed to still keep it together. Still protect her. But I'm scared too, RJ. I'm so goddamn tired."

Her voice trembled, but the tears didn't fall. Not yet.

"I snapped," she whispered. "And now she's out there alone, and I—I might've really messed up this time."

RJ stepped closer, his expression softening. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

"You don't have to do it alone," he said. "You never had to."

Callie's breath hitched. For a second, she looked so small—so young—that RJ's heart broke a little.

But the moment passed. She straightened, wiping at her face with one hand, resolve returning to her eyes like a flame rekindled.

"We need to find her."

RJ nodded. "No argument here."

They turned, heading deeper into the cave. The shadows loomed around them, but Callie no longer let them weigh her down. She had a sister to find. A wrong to make right.

And nothing—not even Arcana itself—was going to stop her.

Ollie giggled, her legs swinging back and forth from the silk cradle as it gently swayed above the cavern floor. Bioluminescent fungi pulsed along the cave walls, casting a soft, shimmering glow. It should have felt eerie, but instead, it was... comforting. Below, dozens of tiny spiders darted across the ground, their chittering voices rising in joyous cheers. Their many eyes sparkled as they celebrated her presence.

Perched on her grand, woven throne, the Spider looked on with a smile—warm, almost maternal. She leaned forward slightly, her elegant limbs folding beneath her as she watched Ollie play.

"For someone who was crying her little eyes out earlier," Spider teased, "you seem to be enjoying yourself quite a bit, my dear."

"Duh!" Ollie laughed, kicking her legs out. "This is fun! I didn't know spider silk was this comfy!"

"My silk is of the finest quality," Spider said with a proud smirk. "Strong enough to trap a beast... soft enough for a queen's dress."

She paused, her gaze lingering on Ollie with something deeper, something tender.

"I've had many admirers in my life," she murmured. "But never... a child."

Ollie blinked. The swing slowed as she tilted her head.

"Really? But you'd be an awesome mom!"

Spider's smirk faded into something softer. "Would I?"

"Yeah!" Ollie said, completely sincere. "You take care of all these little guys"—she gestured to the skittering spiderlings—"you made me a sweater, and the swing, and you made me feel safe. You're like... the mom I never had."

The Spider blinked, her many eyes catching the glow of the cave's light. Her face shifted into something unreadable for a long moment before she let out a quiet sigh, her voice hushed.

"Perhaps... if things were different, I would have had a daughter like you."

Ollie beamed and reached out, wrapping her small fingers around one of Spider's clawed hands.

"You already do."

Silence settled between them—not awkward, but warm and full of something unspoken. The tiny spiders began weaving again, placing little silk flowers around the walls in a quiet celebration.

Spider chuckled, low and rich. "You are a dangerous little thing. You weave words as well as I weave silk."

Ollie grinned. "Guess I learned from the best."

For a rare moment, the Spider felt something stir within her—not hunger, not instinct. Something gentler. And as Ollie swung lazily in her cradle of silk, the Spider watched over her like the mother she never got to be.

Callie burst into the chamber, breath ragged, eyes wide. Her gaze landed instantly on the sight before her: Ollie, alive, happy, swinging in a web hammock. Beside her stood the Spider—imposing, elegant, terrifying.

Callie's heart surged.

"Ollie!" she shouted, stepping forward.

Spider moved before the echo faded, her form blurring into a tall, protective shape. Eight legs shifted with practiced menace as she blocked Callie's path, fangs glinting in the cave light. The spiderlings vanished into cracks and shadows.

"So," Spider said, her voice cold and sharp, "you're the one who hurt her."

Callie flinched. "W-What?"

"She told me everything. How you shouted. How you left her to cry. And now you come crawling back?"

Callie's throat clenched. She didn't argue—because Spider was right.

"I didn't mean to," she whispered. "I just... I was scared. I lost control. I never meant to hurt her."

"Oh, poor you," Spider hissed. "And yet her tears stained my silk, not yours."

Callie staggered under the weight of the words. But before she could speak again—

"Mama, please."

Ollie's voice was soft. Spider turned to find her standing still, hands gripping the sleeve of her web-woven sweater. No fear in her face—only understanding.

"She's my sister," Ollie said gently.

Spider's expression wavered. She looked between the two girls, her fangs slowly lowering, the tension in her limbs fading.

"She doesn't deserve you," Spider muttered.

Ollie smiled, eyes shimmering. "Maybe not. But I still love her."

The words hit Callie like a wave. She dropped to her knees before her sister, clutching her hands.

"I'm so sorry, Ollie," she said, voice cracking. "I shouldn't have shouted. I shouldn't have made you feel like you were a burden. You're not. You never were."

Ollie looked at her for a long moment—then threw her arms around her neck.

"I forgive you."

Callie clung to her, holding on like she'd never let go again. Even Spider, distant and wary, softened at the sight.

"Hmph," she grumbled, though there was no venom in her tone. "If she were anyone else, I'd keep her here forever for what she did."

"But you're letting me go?" Ollie asked through a sniffle.

Spider sighed dramatically. "Yes, yes. Though you would make a fine little spiderling."

Ollie giggled and hugged her tightly one last time. "You're the best, Mama Spider."

"Go on," Spider said, gently nudging her away. "Before I change my mind."

Callie took Ollie's hand, guiding her toward the tunnel's mouth. Just before they left, Ollie turned back and smiled.

"I'll miss you."

Spider didn't speak at first. Then, quietly: "And I, you."

The group wandered through the cave tunnels, torches casting flickering light across slick stone. Callie held Ollie's hand, RJ and Serena followed close behind, and Molly scanned the darkness.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Serena quipped.

Before Callie could retort, Ollie dashed forward and tackled RJ and Serena in a hug, beaming.

"I missed you guys!"

RJ awkwardly patted her back. "Yeah, yeah. Glad you're alive. But tell me—did you get turned into a spider?"

"Nope!" Ollie grinned. "But I did eat bugs!"

Molly froze. "You what?!"

Ollie giggled, showing off her spider silk sweater before Molly could spiral.

But something caught Callie's eye—a flicker ahead. At the end of the corridor, framed by shimmering strands of web, glowed a portal. Their way out.

"Look," she said, voice serious.

They all turned.

RJ whooped. "Finally! No offense, but I'm not into being spider snacks."

"You're more of a toothpick than a meal," Serena muttered.

Callie stepped toward the light, then paused, glancing at Ollie.

"You ready?"

Ollie turned back for one final glance into the cave. Her heart tugged. She could still feel Spider's presence—kind, strange, fierce. A part of her didn't want to leave.

But she knew it was time.

She smiled up at her sister and nodded.

"Yeah. Let's go home."

They stepped through the portal, one by one, vanishing into the swirling light.

The cave fell silent. Then, from a shadowed crevice, a single spider emerged and climbed the wall.

The portal shimmered once more—then closed.